Natural Disaster
by vagrant mind
Summary: A run-in with a hunter sets off a chain of events that Sam never expected. He might finally have a way to rescue his brother. AU from 7.23
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Natural Disaster

**Rating:** PG-13 for swearing

**Disclaimer:** If I owned them, I wouldn't be posting on a fanfiction website, now would I?

**Notes:** Technically, this story is my first fanfiction, but I wrote and posted a different one before I decided to make something out of this one. ANYWAYS. This takes place at the end of Season 7, and is an AU of Season 8. I haven't seen any trailers/spoilers, so there shouldn't be any here, 'cause I doubt this is what's going to happen. Seriously. And I try to proofread my stories, but I'm also impatient. :)

**More Notes:** If you read this before, I changed the chapters so its two so far instead of three. The length was bothering me, and I'm going to update with longer segments from now on.

* * *

Some mornings, Sam wondered if he was going insane.

His mind would then supply that the notion was ridiculous (he knew what insanity felt like) and that anyone would be effected by his sleeping patterns, or lack thereof. Still, he entertained the possibility, if not solely for the fact that there was no one to refute him.

_You are well and truly on your own. _

Crowley's parting words resounded in the empty space, foreign silence pressing down on him. Feeling confined, Sam rolled out from beneath the blankets and self-pity, resting on the edge of the mattress for a second to drag a hand down his face before tottering over to the bathroom to commence his morning ritual. He slid easily into crisp efficiency; it settled on his shoulders like the embrace of an old friend.

It had been 23 days since he had left the laboratory alone.

As per family tradition, he pursued a solution to this new round of 'search and rescue' with characteristic desperation. His days were a toss up between research and hunting- sleep seized him in fits, and he allowed it only to avoid succumbing to the symptoms of insomnia he was entirely too familiar with. At first, he had relentlessly chased Leviathan and interrogated any he managed to track down about Purgatory. He was convinced that Dean was there- where else would Dick Roman have gone in death?  
However, despite his work, the only way he knew to access Purgatory was the ritual Crowley and Castiel had procured, but he couldn't risk unleashing the Leviathan and render all they had done (sacrificed) meaningless.

No, he needed something else.

He couldn't help but think there was nothing else to find.

xxx

"Do you ever wonder what it feels like?"

Sam picked up the bucket, filling it to the brim with the Borax he was so well stocked up on. Salt, holy water, cleaning solution. The best supernatural defense, all readily available at your local convenience store.

"Floating, body in pieces, yet unable to die?"

This leviathan was talkative, even as it contemplated its own dismemberment. It had donned the face of a local officer and had seen fit to lead Sam on while he had hunted down a poltergeist in its jurisdiction. If it hadn't followed him, he probably wouldn't have even realized there was any leviathan in the town at all.

"Why don't you tell me after? You know, if you ever run in to the rest of your body." He quipped, turning to rifle through his duffle for the machete. The fake cop was pinned against the wall for the moment, but he wasn't going to indulge its conversational tendencies to give it a chance to recover.

It glared at him, but then let out a derisive chuckle.

"But then, you would know, wouldn't you? You can't exactly die in the Cage."

The head collided with the ground in a fleshy thump, the body going limp. Sam dragged the flat of the knife against his jeans, which already sported a growing bloodstain from a wound he had received courtesy of the poltergeist. He should probably do something about that.

Sighing, he sagged into a chair. Miraculously, it had remained upright through all the hubbub of the spirit's tantrum that involved flinging furniture and cutlery everywhere. He allowed himself a moment of respite, eyeing the head on the floor blankly. Mention of the Cage had taken him off guard, although in retrospect he realized that it would've been knowledge all the leviathans had been privy to, being holed up inside Cas. He thumbed at the scar on his hand absently, dropping his chin to follow the pink line with his eyes. It probably wouldn't have left a trace if he hadn't kept digging at it, but then he would've gone off the rails that much faster.  
Now his hallucinations were gone, and it served as a testament to how bad it was- could get. The memories were still there, and he could just as easily fall back into them as he did back then; he did every time he slept and woke to wonder what torture this particular illusion entailed.

Sam shook his head, belatedly noting that he was still sitting there, drifting. Snagging one of the plastic bags he had begun collecting from his supplies, he slipped it around the severed head and tied it shut, abandoning it to the floor as he moved to drag the body outside to bury.

xxx

Three disappearances in the last two weeks; two children, one teen. No connection other than their age group and neighborhood. Police at a loss.

He couldn't ignore it. Shouldn't ignore it. Even with the litany of _findDeanfindDeanfindDean_ endlessly cycling his mind, he was still a hunter.

And it would be nice to save someone, for once.

That sentiment brought him to this small corner of suburbia on the outskirts of Wichita, Kansas, greeted by overcast skies and the pervasive nausea of shame from expending time outside his research.

It had been 32 days since the lab.

"Stop it." He snapped, clenching the worn plastic of the steering wheel in frustration. "Concentrate in the case. Dean has Castiel with him, he's fine." _You're talking to yourself, you're not fine._

He forced himself to take in the house he had parked in front of, all of its cheery yellow panelling and cobblestone walkway. Home to one Emily Park, who had gone to pick her nephew up from his soccer game and returned empty-handed. He slid out of the front seat, pausing to straighten his suit before marching determinedly up the front steps, FBI badge brandished like a shield. As he reached forward to rap on the door, it bent away from him, and a second later he was uncomfortably close to a dark-haired man clad in an almost identical suit. They stared at each other,

"Agent." Sam managed, raising the hand that gripped his badge.

"Oh, is this your partner?" A female voice piped from somewhere beyond the doorway. She stepped out from behind her guest as a petite woman, her greying hair pulled back and enhancing the softly wrinkled contours of her face that held an open smile.

The other man regained his composure, nodding curtly before reaching out to grip Sam's arm. "Yes, and if you'll excuse us, we need to discuss the case. It's been a pleasure."

Sam allowed himself to be dragged from the porch, free hand brushing the concealed gun tucked beneath his jacket. He no longer had a home base to back his FBI cover; he would either have to be incredibly convincing, or simply leave altogether. Or resort to violence.  
They stopped at the sidewalk, Sam jerking back to release his arm and eyeing the man before him. His attention was returned as the other man tilted his head in his own observatory sweep, brow slipping in mild irritation as he seemed to catalogue their slight difference in height with the affronted air of one accustomed to being the taller. Roughly an inch shorter, he had tousled black hair and light stubble, and as he stared the amber flecks in his light brown eyes caught the light, sending a rush of apprehension through Sam as he fought the reflex to strike.

"So, agent." The man drawled, "Care to tell me who you really are?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. He wasn't going to lose this case; he would have to play the part. "I could say the same to you. I wasn't aware they were assigning anyone else to this case."

"Well, I was here first, so I think I take precedence."

"This isn't a game." He growled, "People are disappearing."  
There was a pause, then Sam added, "We might as well work together." If the man wouldn't back off, then the least he could do was keep him from being killed.

"Fine." The agent bit out, folding his arms. Then his face was overtaken by a thoughtful look. "You... don't want to check in with your supervisor?" The question was careful.

"No, it shouldn't be an issue..." Sam trailed off, dread curling in his stomach as he realized his facade may have been seen through.

Abruptly, the man broke out into laughter, stiff formality dropped.  
"You're a hunter!" He grinned, "Fuck, you scared me. Thought I would have to skip town or something."

Comprehension dawned, swiftly followed by relief. Sam couldn't help but chuckle himself- though he remained apprehensive. He didn't have the best history of run-ins with other hunters.

His unease was unheeded as he was offered a hand.

"Name's Alex. Alex Ruger. Hunter." He added, smirking.

"Sam. Winchester." He reciprocated the handshake, watching carefully for an adverse reaction.

"Huh." Alex gave him a brief searching glance, then his smirk widened. "Don't look so worried. Bobby told me about you and your brother, said you were some of the 'good ones.'" He made quoted gestures.

"He also said you saved the world."

"I had help." Sam smiled hesitantly.

Alex snorted. "Well, thanks anyways."

Fidgeting, he gave the surrounding neighborhood a glance before returning his attention to Alex. "So. How do you know Bobby?"

Alex shrugged in nonchalance, gaze drifting. "Met him back when I first started hunting. Checked in every once and a while since." There was a flash of sorrow in his eyes as he continued. "I was sorry to hear he passed."

Sam nodded. "Likewise."

There was another pause.

"So." Alex cleared his throat, "We teaming up for this?"

Sam met the hunter's gaze, briefly musing what tragedy pulled him into this life. Alex's faintly gilded eyes seemed to pierce him; his trust would only extend to what the job entailed. So would Sam's.

xxx

After they had gone through their awkward introduction, Sam suggested reconvening with what research they had so far, tactfully avoiding the fact that he had nothing himself. Alex offered his own motel room, which turned out to be at the same establishment as Sam's. He admitted to having arrived in town yesterday and had already conducted interviews with everyone worth investigating. Sam resisted the urge to pout; it was puerile and pointless, no matter how much he had been looking forward to temporary alleviating the emotions assuaging him by the mindless routine of an easy hunt.  
He frowned, idly tracing the scar on his palm and dragging himself from his thoughts. Alex was talking, hands gliding over the table and shifting papers in a fluttering dance on the surface of the table in his room. "...Jeremy Park disappeared while waiting to be picked up from soccer practice, no one would've been paying close attention to him. Abigail Griswald vanished during her class's recess- went to pick up a ball from the bushes and never came out. And Matthew Turner was on his way to a friend's house in his neighborhood and never got there." He leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin idly as his face smoothed in thought. "So, whatever it is follows them, snatches them up when no one would see and leaves no sign of a struggle. Or it draws them away somehow. Then it kills them elsewhere, or they're still alive."

"It could be a human. You know, not our kind of thing." Sam put in, shuffling through the three police reports. He had it pinned as something supernatural, but this is how they worked- argument, debate, bringing in every aspect of the job and validating the facts. For a fleeting moment the last few years vanished and he was sitting across from Dean without a concern other than the job, and in a few seconds his brother would scoff and call him 'Sammy' and they would go on with the investigation.

"Nah, I've got a hunch it is." Alex dismissed, breaking Sam's flimsy illusion as he rocked in his chair and smirked at him. "Besides, we haven't checked out the areas where the disappearances occurred yet. Give it time, Sammy."

"It's Sam." The words spilled out in a snarl, and his eyes widened before he hastily ducked his face to hide his unease. Agony flared in his chest as his grief surged, and he was aware of nothing but the desolate loss that wrought his entire being with misery. Abruptly ashamed of his obvious distress, he scrubbed a hand down his face and exhaled steadily. If Dean were there, he would have made light of the entire situation, not to mention a mockery of Sam's volatile emotions and something about his 'time of the month.' And it would've comforted Sam like nothing else could.  
He could feel Alex's stare, could almost hear the cogs turning in the other man's head. After he was confident his expression was under control, Sam straightened. Alex watched him, face somber and eyes softened in what might've been sympathy.

"How'd it happen?"

Sam raised his brow, feigning ignorance. "How did what happen?"

"Your brother." Alex's voice was flat. "How did he die?"

"He's not dead." Again anger flared, but this time he let it rage, relishing the burn against the cold weight of sorrow in his belly.

"Where is he, then?" Alex's query was sharp, demanding, but he seemed to catch himself and visibly drew back. "I mean, I thought you two worked together. Family, and all that."  
Sam read the underlying turmoil easily, even if he didn't know the cause. But he settled on answering the literal question. He had expected it to arise eventually, especially when Alex had claimed to have heard of them from Bobby. Silently, he considered lying, but brushed off the notion. Really, what harm would it be?

"He's... in Purgatory." Sam said carefully, "I'm trying to find a way to get him back."

Alex blinked. "Purgatory?"

"Yeah, it's like the afterlife for monsters."

"No, I know that." It was Sam's turn for surprise. "It's just... He's human, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"So how did he get there?"

"When we killed the Alpha Leviathan, he got pulled in with him, along with another friend."

"Didn't know that could happen." Alex observed, wincing in commiseration. "Sorry."

"No need to be. He's not dead." Sam refrained from being churlish. Almost.

"Yeah, 'course." He replied, wisely backing off. "But..."

Not so wise, then.

"...that place is teeming, dude. Hunter or not, he's got no chance." Alex sounded apologetic.

"He's alive." Sam repeated. Say it enough, might be true.

Alex's eyes narrowed, but he said no more. Sam reciprocated the silence as they stared each other, then canted his head slightly in mild curiosity.  
"How did you find out about Purgatory?" He asked casually, barring any accusatory notes from his tone. Inwardly, he berated himself for alienating the only company he had, but there was something about the surety of Alex's words that was unsettling.

"I read about it." Alex answered simply, face betraying nothing but subtle incredulity at Sam's question. Sam decided not to push it; he didn't think Alex was hiding anything particularly malicious. If anything he could relate to a penchant for keeping cards close to his chest. But if he knew anything about Purgatory…

After the case. He would ask _after_ they solved this.

"Anyways. We should get back to this." Sam tapped on a picture of a little girl, one of the victims. "You want to split up? Two of the disappearances were at the local elementary school, the other in the neighborhood."

Alex seemed keen to change the subject. He rose to his feet, snagging the pictures of the younger boy and girl from the table. "I'll take the school."

Sam nodded, taking the file for the teenager, Matthew Turner. He paused in Alex's wake as the door swung shut behind his retreat, pushing against the chair to stand. He couldn't get a clear read on his temporary partner; he had seemed genuinely concern when Sam's control had lapsed, but other then that his emotions were the flicker of an eye and a curl to his lips. All Sam had been able to conclude was that Alex enjoyed his work; whether it was the noble idea of saving people or the inclination to violence in any form remained to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Natural Disaster

**Rating:** PG-13 for swearing

**Disclaimer:** If I owned them, I wouldn't be posting on a fanfiction website, now would I?

**Notes: **Kay, so I haven't watch the new episode, and I don't plan to until I finish this story, so please refrain from putting any spoilers in your comments. Which there haven't been many of, so I probably don't need to worry. :P

**More Notes:** Again, if you read this already, I combined the three chapters into two.

* * *

The neighborhood was much like any quaint corner of suburbia Sam had been in, neat lawns and single files of planted trees marching beside worn sidewalks. He walked slowly, a wind stirring a whirlwind of fallen leaves that battered against his legs as the breeze picked up. The sky had darkened considerably as a portent to ill weather, and the world was cast in muted colors as quiet fell in place of rain from the tufted hides of clouds. Sam felt the tension like a bated breath, and the dry scrape of leaves against the pavement rasped at him as he strode past. He realized he was being foolish as he quickened his pace, but the silence prowled behind him and drove him to press all the more swiftly to his goal. Ever since Lucifer had been extracted from his waking moments, he had tried to see the quiet as a wayward friend, something to be welcomed back after a long absence- but instead it was a stranger that stalked him with hushed laughter that washed over his skin like static and ignited a nervous energy that bade him move, run, scream, _anything_ that kept the soundlessness at bay.  
Moderating himself to a steady stride, he kept track of the numbers emblazoned on the mailboxes in a mutter under his breath, searching for the 10028 that would mark the house that the missing teen would've departed from. When he found it, he automatically noted the absence of a car parked out front and the darkened windows. Nobody home. He didn't necessarily have to speak to the parents, as Alex already had and recounted each conversation for Sam's sake, but there was much to be gleaned from seeing someone face-to-face.

Sam went to the neighbor's house after he realized that he didn't know the friend's address, ascending the stairs to the small front porch and knocking on the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the shifting of the curtains, and a second later the door opened to a thirty-something woman with cropped brown hair and a pinched look of consternation.

"Yes?" Her voice was breathy, and she managed to pull a smile across her lips that only marginally transformed the discomfort on her face.

"My name is Agent Daniels," Sam began, holding up his badge, "I'm investigating the disappearances. Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Oh, sure." She adopted a more cheerful demeanor as she stepped back to let him in, leading him into her tidy living room to an off-white sofa. Her uneasiness faded visibly inside her house, and settled down across from him with an easy smile.

"I already answered a few questions for your partner, but anything I can do to help." She sighed sadly, "Matthew was such a good kid."

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but held back as the house trembled in a rush of wind and glanced to the window, but the curtains barred any view of the outdoors.

"Some weather, huh?" She commented, leaning back to rest in the cushions of her chair.

"Sure is." Sam replied, then faced her once more with a polite smile. "I won't take too much of your time, Ms…?"

"Lupton, Ella Lupton."

"You know the Turners pretty well, then?"

Ella frowned, head tipped, "I suppose. I moved here a few months ago. We've gotten together a few times, mostly for events in the neighborhood. I watched their dog once." Her smile was rueful as she reminisced, then shrugged, "We weren't any closer than normal next-door neighbors."

"Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary around the neighborhood?" Sam asked, then added, "Besides the disappearances. Even if it seems unrelated."

She gave him a appraising look, "Well, being questioned by police and you two agents." She said drily, "But no, nothing I can think of."

"Alright, one more question. Do you know the Arnold's address? They're friends of the Turners."

"They live a few houses down. I don't remember the exact address, but they have a collection of garden gnomes out front." She supplied, "Can't miss 'em. Creepy little things." Sam chuckled, and moved to stand, the slight tremors making the assorted glassware on the shelves rattle. Ella stood with him, shaking his hand as he thanked her for her time. "Good luck with the case. Tell your partner I said hi." She waved him out with a coy smirk, and left him on the front step wondering if Alex's method of questioning women was anything like Dean's.

He stepped back onto the sidewalk and resumed his walking, the faint notes of wind chimes following him as he headed down the street.

xxx

The neighborhood search yielded a few traces of EMF, though they were scattered and faint enough to be inconclusive. But a spirit was a viable theory, if only for the lack of physical evidence surrounding any of the disappearances. Of course, they could also be dealing with something intelligent enough to cover its tracks and clean up any traces. Essentially, Sam was left with very little. The only concrete lead they had was a penchant for younger victims, which hardly narrowed the slew of supernatural things it could be. He figured the next step was checking the library. Alex had said the people he interviewed all claimed the area had no local legends or notable deaths, but there wasn't much else to do beside more research. Recalling the location of the nearest library from the cursory information he had garnered before setting out, he was walking down the road when the sudden trill of his phone made him jump in surprise. He glared at the caller ID (Alex) before answering.

"Find anything?" He kept the annoyance of being startled out of his voice. Irritation was becoming the norm around this guy; guiltily, he wondered if it was a unconscious reaction to the fact that he wasn't _Dean._

"Not much. Some EMF. No one saw the kids being taken, no one heard anything, etcetera, etcetera." Sam heard the undercurrent of frustration in his voice and sympathized. Alex huffed out a sigh, then continued, "We need more to go on."

"I'm headed to the library now. You want to head over?"

"I'm always up for some light reading." He replied airily, "be there in five."

xxx

"Rawhead."

"Not very inconspicuous."

"Fairies."

"Doubtful."

"A duende."

"That's a type of fairy."

Sam huffed in frustration, fingers drumming a sharp staccato on the side of his coffee cup. "Could be a Lamia."

"Maybe."

"Maybe you should come up with something."

Alex widened his eyes in feigned indignation, knocking back the rest of his own coffee before tossing it in a garbage can a few feet from their table. They had retreated to the small cafe next door to the library after their efforts proved fruitless, resorting to running through a checklist of possible suspects.  
"There wasn't anything in the area's history, but it doesn't mean it can't be some sort of spirit." He pointed out, "We both found EMF, after all."

"True."

"The victims were all from the same neck of these manicured woods, right?" Alex tipped his head, eyes glinting in the glow of the overhead lamps. "We could split up again, stake out the neighborhood. It's the weekend, so we wouldn't have to include the school grounds."

"That's still a pretty large area to scope out. But," Sam conceded, "it'll have to do, until we have more information."

They both tensed at a tremor as the wind picked up and rattled the cafe. Sam glanced outside, but the weather didn't seem much worse than it had before; the clouds had thickened, but that was all. The building was probably unstable to begin with.

"Agents!"

Ella approached their table with a wide smile, fair skin sanguine from the chill breeze outside. Her greeting was for them both, but her eyes focused on Alex, the subtle shift in her expression echoing her undisguised interest. The man didn't share her fascination- he looked back at her blankly, no doubt silently groping for her name. Sam decided to step in.

"Ella. Nice to see you again." He smiled genially, folding his hands on the table. She returned the courtesy, but her attention quickly snapped back to his partner.

"Ella, right." Alex offered his own polite nod, "Can we help you?"

The man was somber, his voice clipped- every bit the federal agent, rid of even the leisurely demeanor that had dominated their conversation until this point. The change quickly doused any assumptions Sam had drawn regarding possible womanizing tendencies, but left curiosity in its wake.

"No, just saw you two through the window, thought I'd say hello." She ignored his stiff greeting, smile stretching slowly as her dark eyes lingered. Alex ignored her blatant signals, fidgeting as the wind gave the cafe another shake.

She cleared her throat. "Anything new on the case?"

"Nothing absolute, but we're working on a lead." Sam assured her, voice brimming with a confidence he didn't feel. She looked satisfied, however, and left soon after, finally dissuaded by Alex's indifference.

"There a problem?" He bumped the leg of Alex's chair with his foot, drawing a grunt from the other man.

"Nah." Alex's eyes drifted out the window, his face impassive, and Sam followed his gaze as it traced Ella's path from the cafe, her dark hair drifting out behind her loping stride like a banner.

"Uh huh." Sam's response was skeptical, but he let the matter drop. Alex took his silence as a cue that he was ready to leave, and rose from his chair without a word. Sam followed him out, falling in step with the other hunter as they made their way back to the motel. Alex was restless, hands slipping in and out of his coat pockets a few times as if he was unsure what to do with the unoccupied limbs. Sam was a bit puzzled as to how the woman had driven him to such obvious discomfort, unless it was another matter all together. Despite his concern, he didn't feel it was his place to probe any further.

As per their meager plans they split up for the second time that day, trudging back to the neighborhood and branching out in opposite directions. It was evening by the time they had arrived, although the sky had already been dark due to the changing weather. A soft rain began to fall, misting into the thickening air and glossing the dusted pavement as Sam navigated the blocks of houses with his EMF meter in hand. He was occasionally rewarded with a few lights and a stuttered whine, but it never followed a clear path and often left him meandering in the street if he attempted to track it.  
He had been at it for a few hours, eventually back-tracking to the Impala to retrieve an umbrella when the rain picked up in earnest. There were no spikes on the meter, no screams, no signs of anything suspicious. Nothing but the prickle scuttling across his shoulders and surety that _something_ was out there to keep him on the search.

Sam paused beside a large oak tree, pulling out his phone to check for messages. It rang in his hand.

"Sam."

Alex's voice was a gasp, his breath ragged.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam demanded, gripping the phone tight.

"It's-" there was a curse, and a muffled thump as if he had fallen.

"Alex?!" Sam was close to shouting, but all he heard was a roar like a gale on the other end.

xxx

Sam had scoured the neighborhood with renewed vigor after that, but to no avail. His partner was gone, without a trace. _Everyone is gone._ His brisk pace was accented with a hushed litany of "No no no no no..." as despair crept up on him, the emotion reigniting the crippling anguish that had been plaguing him since Dean's disappearance. No, since Castiel's sacrificed sanity, since Bobby's death (both of them), since...

"Alex!" He shouted, staving off the silence of the small park and the clamor of his thoughts. He couldn't lose anyone else. He would get him back.

Back at the motel room, he forced himself calm down and carefully compartmentalized his thoughts, concentrating on the case and nothing else. When Alex had been taken, he had heard something. The wind. This had to do with the wind. He turned to the window- the approach of dawn was well hidden behind the roil of storm clouds, the rain pounding as surely as it had through the night. The weather had been getting progressively worse while he had been here, and since the first disappearance, according to the daily weather reports. He hadn't paid it any mind; storms were common in Kansas. And it had been a while since he had hunted anything that in any way pertained to the weather, be it an elemental or weather demon. Sam tugged his laptop out of its case, sliding it onto his table and perusing his usual online resources for any documentation on supernatural entities that fit the profile, simultaneously running through the day before. There were certain instances when the wind had picked up, buildings shaking…  
He paused. At the cafe, he had felt the tremor, but there hadn't been any sign of a strong wind outside- no fluttering debris, and the trees had barely been stirring. And at Ella's house… the curtains were drawn.

_...the faint notes of wind chimes following him as he headed down the street._

The wind chimes. They had barely stirred in the breeze; there hadn't been any fierce winds. The weather was being effected, but the tremors were the cause of something else.

Bolstered by the new revelations, he continued his search within more confining parameters until he finally tracked down his monster. The ala: a weather demon from Bulgarian mythology and folklore known for leading thunderstorms across crop fields and eating children, and its 'breath' was said to drive men to insanity and death. It can take human form, though the research was unclear as to whether the manifestation was through possession or a shape-shifting ability. Either way, it must be a way to keep a low profile while the demon eats and gains strength, as suggested by the steady trend in the weather. As for the shaking, a few sources claimed that an ala may cause a house to tremble upon entering.

Ella. Ella was the demon- or was possessed by it. But why had she taken Alex? He wasn't a child, but she had fixated upon him when they had been together. And Alex had noticed; he had watched her leave the cafe and was possessed of a restive wariness on the way back to the neighborhood, resolute on splitting up for the search…

Had he known something then?

Sam bristled at being kept in the dark again, then tried to reason past the anger- he hadn't been completely open with the man either, they didn't know each other, he had a right to silence. It did little to console him; first it was how he had known about Purgatory, and now it was the case; Alex could keep himself an enigma, but there were some things that Sam _needed_ to know.

In any case, saving him took precedence. Along with killing the ala, which required a stone arrowhead. Sam grimaced at that- he could carve his own, but it would be much quicker to steal one, especially since there were plenty of museums devoted to Native American artifacts in this city. But he never enjoyed thievery, especially from a place devoted to historical preservation and education. Last time, Dean had ribbed him mercilessly for his moral 'foible,' then waggled his brow as he said, _"Foible, Sammy. Word of the day." _He slammed down on that thread of thought, the fond reminiscence cutting him deeply as another reminder that he hadn't been devoting his time to rescuing his brother. And Sam refused to indulge in the nostalgia, as if Dean were already out of his grasp. He wasn't, and neither was Alex.

The next step was pinpointing the ala's location. She might return to her home in the neighborhood eventually, but Alex's abduction might be a retaliation against discovering that they were hunting for her, so there was a chance she would be expecting him there. The lore placed any temporary lodgings- the ala were nomadic, stopping only to feed- deep in the woods. The presence of a thick forest a few miles out from town was a mixed blessing; he knew where to look, but the area was vast, and would take him days unless he could narrow his search. Alex had called him, so there was the possibility that he still had his phone and had activated the GPS function. Had the phone call been intended for him to make that connection when Alex realized he was in danger of being taken? Perhaps he was reading too much into a simple panicked response, but he couldn't rid himself of the suspicion that there was more to the man's every action then he let on.  
A few minutes later, he had a location. The online tracker placed the signal within the forest, so even if Alex had lost his phone on the way, Sam had the general vicinity to start with. Next stop was the nearest museum, which coincidentally was in the final stages of preparation for an exhibit on 'Native American Warfare.' Winchester luck had its moments, apparently. Sam glanced at his watch. They wouldn't be open yet- he could sneak in and grab what he needed. It might go more smoothly if he disguised himself as security personnel, but he nor Alex had the time.

* * *

**More Author Notes:** I didn't make up the ala, but I certainly took some creative license from what I found. Because I could. And because it fits the story better. :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Natural Disaster

**Rating:** PG-13 for swearing

**Disclaimer:** If I owned them, I wouldn't be posting on a fanfiction website, now would I?

**Notes: **Thanks for the reviews and the follows!

* * *

_The woods are lovely, dark and deep._

Sam parked the Impala on the outskirts of the woods, stepping out of the car and approaching the tree line with weapon in hand- a short wooden pole with the arrowhead affixed on one end, much like an arrow in its craft. He would need to get close to use it effectively, but not as close as he would with only the rock. Tracing the coordinates of Alex's GPS signal with his own phone, he slunk through the trees, wary of any sign of hunter or ala as he cast his gaze around the forest. Thanks to an online consultation, he knew there were rock formations in the area that could suggest the presence of some caves, which fell in line with the lore of the ala hiding away while gathering its strength. The foliage swayed noisily in the rising winds, and rain hit him when it wasn't hindered by the canopy. There was the distant rumble of thunder, followed by a lull that awaited the crack of lightning. The storm would soon break, and he wasn't sure what that would mean for the hunt- the lore was unclear as to what an ala's true form was; some said it was a black wind, others had it pegged as a cousin to dragons and thus a reptilian beast that flew amongst the storms. Either way, he had the sneaking suspicious that it would be best to take it down before it left its current body, which he assumed it would be able to in the apex of the storm.  
The deeper he got into the forest, the stronger the wind grew- debris was tossed, and he was under a constant assault of sodden leaves and the sharp sting of the torrential rain. Not to mention the twigs and sticks light enough to be flung around by a particularly malicious gust. Sam took a brief respite beneath the boughs of a stooped tree that was barely stirring, hunching against the thick trunk as he rechecked the coordinates. He was close enough that he should be able to see the source of the signal, and since Alex was no where to be seen, his phone must've been discarded along the way. Frustrated, he gave his surroundings another sweep, but there was nothing besides the wet slide of leaves and writhing branches. He would just have to keep searching on his own, unaided. Belatedly, Sam wished he had gotten specifics on any caves in the area, but there hadn't been time- after weeks of doing _nothing_, the yearning to run out and actually save someone had been overpowering. He wasn't unprepared by a long shot, but there had been none of his usual meticulous reexamination of the hunt, no backup plans.

Taking only a few minutes in the shelter, he surged into the downpour once more and strode onwards, the toss of his head as he endlessly scanned the forest flinging rain into the air, the rest running down his face in rivulets. His pace quickened as he went, resisting the urge to call out for his partner as the surrounding trees continued to hide any sign of him or his captor.

As luck would have it, Sam eventually caught sight of a small cave. He approached it cautiously; the gale seemed to be coming from its depths, shoving at him with a startling ferocity. The maw of the rocky tunnel was too dark to make out any shapes, and he fumbled in his pockets for his flashlight before throwing himself into the battering ram of the wind and tumbling into the recesses of the cave.  
The air was still and oppressive in its abrupt silence. The feigned hush of suspense, of foreboding expectation. He grit his teeth against his answering uneasiness and stood, flicking on the flashlight and questing about the walls for any sign of his quarry. All he saw was a block of shadow that marked another stooped tunnel, perhaps a connection to deeper caverns. He ducked in, his makeshift weapon held aloft before him and the flashlight at his side, beam of light carving through the inky dark and catching on the jagged stone. The cramped tunnel opened into an expanse of stagnant air and he unfolded himself gratefully, casting his light about in his continuous search for Alex. He was rewarded with the soft edges of a still form at the far corner of the room.

"Alex!" Sam hissed, giving the rest of the room another glance before darting to his side. He froze: Alex's stillness was that of death, and his last vestiges of hope dropped away. And then there was movement, a stuttering breath as the man let out a feeble murmur.

"It's me, it's Sam." He whispered, resting a hand on Alex's shoulder tentatively. He didn't know what injuries he might've sustained, so he hazarded against moving him, for now.

"...Sam?" Alex rolled onto his back with a grimace, an arm curled tightly against his abdomen. There was nothing but dirt and snarled edges marring his clothing, so the injury must've been internal. Sam wondered if it was too much to hope for simple bruising.

"Can you move? I need to get you out of here, and then-"

"She can smell you." Alex bit out, the gold in his eyes almost incandescent in the meager light, "...she just left to finish... her meal."

"Smell...?" He recalled reading something regarding the ala's tracking ability. It probably helped that sound and smell were carried by the wind.  
Alex shoved himself up, movements stiff as he levered himself with the cave wall. His breathing was short as if in pain, his lips tight as he tried to muffle the sound. Sam reached out to aid him when he felt a soft brush of air on his cheek, and he turned questioningly before he was slammed against the opposite wall, an invisible grip curling around his midsection and wringing out a gasp.

"Leaving so soon?" The ala sauntered into his line of sight, still in Ella's form. As Sam watched, her body seemed to vibrate and her edges blurred as if trying to escape its physical manifestation. Her eyes glowed with a silver sheen, and a predatory leer curled her lips.

"So, you found us." She continued, pausing in front of him. Her head was tilted to take him in, a hand lifted to rest on his chest. "There was no point. Alex, here," A toss of her head in the man's direction, hair undulating around her shoulders, "He sought me out. There was no need of a rescue." There was an echo of her coy smile from the day before, but it was almost lost in the hungry bare of gleaming teeth.

Then her face hardened. "You are too late anyways; the storm is at hand, and I will be rid of this place. And you." Her fingers curled into his clothing, cold spears digging into his chest, and his cry of pain was torn up in a cough as the warm slide of blood bubbled in his throat.

"Sam!"

He felt the release as Alex launched himself at the ala from behind, purely a tact of distraction as he was unarmed and too injured to fight head-on. Taken by surprise, the ala went down, her brightened eyes leaving a residual glow behind as they tumbled to the ground. She recovered in a blink of an eye with an outraged scream and tossed her assailant to the side, and Alex collided into the wall with a heavy thump and fell to the floor. Sam wasted no time- he lunged forward and drove the arrowhead into the ala's chest.

She turned to him wordlessly, mouth agape and eyes wide as she slumped, and he lowered himself to his knees with her as she trembled against the arrow impaling her. The glow seemed to leak from her eyes, and her substance blurred and shifted as if seeking escape, but remained coalesced around the shaft. She tensed for one moment, then all of her vitality released as she exhaled deeply with a final breath. Sam felt it wash over him like a breeze. It elicited a sequence of tingling across his skin, one that rose sharply in its frequency and surged within him like an influx of adrenaline and energy, and he was simultaneously assaulted with gripping cold and scalding warmth as he knelt there, rendered immobile by the barrage of sensation that coursed through him.

And then it was gone.

His shocked silence was broken as he was doubled over by a fit of coughs, the injuries to his chest tightening like a vice as he gasped for air. His eyes watered as he dragged in a few steady breaths, then staggered to his feet to join Alex once again. The man had fallen forward to the ground, unconscious; thus time there was blood, matting his coat around a wound in his lower back. Sam looked up at the wall and spotted a particularly jagged outcropping, glistening wetly. Mentally triaging his own injuries, he figured he would be able to manage dragging them both to the Impala without collapsing on the way. First, he needed to wrap Alex's injury. Sliding off his jacket, he ripped through one of his shirt sleeves and lifted Alex's coat, wrapping his wound on the outside of his shirt. It was good enough for a temporary bandage; hopefully it would last as far as the car and the first aid kit. He slung Alex's arm over his shoulders and rose to his feet, dragging the man's dead weight up with him.

"This would be much easier if you were awake." Sam groused, and felt marginally heartened when Alex answered with a mumble. There was a slight tug on the arm he gripped, and some of the weight that strained against him lifted as Alex balanced unsteadily on his own feet.

"The car isn't far. Think you'll live?"

"Cave walls got nothin' against this skull." Alex managed, wheezing a laugh.

The attempt at levity in the face of injury was so familiar it made Sam's chest ache all the more, but he answered with a chuckle, letting the the fact that they were both still alive wash over him with what warmth it could muster.

The trip out of the forest took much longer than he had hoped. Soon after leaving the cave, the broken light of day peering past the diminishing storm, weariness surged over him and tugged him into darkness, and he almost collapsed before he could grip onto the last shreds of consciousness like a man drowning. Alex tensed when he staggered, and guilt staved off the exhaustion even more as he ground himself in his responsibility to get them both out. Idly, he wondered what time it was as he guided them across the softened ground in a lopsided trudge, heedful of wayward roots and detritus littering the soil.  
Finally Sam caught a glimpse of the Impala in all her glory, resplendent in the growing light. He groped for the back door handle and leaned Alex in, propping him against the seat. His dark hair was plastered to his head from the rain and possibly blood from a head wound; Sam wouldn't be surprised if he had a concussion from being thrown against the cavern wall. He ambled around the the back and retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk, half-kneeling on the ground as he both encouraged and physically shifted Alex so he could get to the wound on his lower back. He started talking as he removed the makeshift bandage to replace it with a real one.

"This isn't that bad at all," He began, trying to interject a modicum of cheer into his voice, "I got stabbed in the back once. I don't really remember it, but..." Sam cleared his throat, ducking his head to retrieve the bandages, "I died from it. First time I've died. That sounds so strange, doesn't it?" He managed a weak laugh, and tried to ignore the lack of reaction he was getting throughout the wrapping. Alex was unconscious, that was all. He wasn't dead, and Sam wasn't alone.  
"Anyways," he continued, voice trembling, "You'll be fine. No permanent damage. Except to your ego, since I saved your ass from getting eaten by a girl."

He finished the bandages and turned his attention to Alex's head, which lolled onto the back of the seat as Sam flipped him back into a sitting position. Hands gentle, he quested through his curling dark hair for any lumps or open wounds. There was a slight bump and a trickle of blood, but the damage didn't appear too bad- he wouldn't know the full extent of the possible concussion until Alex woke up. Sam rocked back on his heels with a sigh, then rose to his feet, staggering to the driver's door and tumbling inside. Leaning back into the seat with a shaky exhale, he turned the keys and immediately calmed at the familiar sound of the engine, a music that had relaxed him throughout his entire life.  
Hunching forward determinedly, he wheeled out of the grass and back onto the dirt road he had came in on, making a conscious effort to avoid driving at reckless speeds as adrenaline from the fight coursed through him. He gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline, blinking as sparks danced across his knuckles. He must've hit his head somewhere along the line; his skull seemed to throb in tune with his thumping heart.

The drive to the motel was a blur, and what seemed like seconds later, he was sliding out of his seat and dragging Alex to the room, stretching him out on his bed before retreating to the car to get his duffle bag and the first aid supplies. The bandage on Alex's back was saturated with blood; the wound needed a few stitches. He willed the nervous energy that shook through his limbs to recede, setting about in the familiar ritual of cleaning the wound until he was calm enough to start the stitching.  
Only when he had finished re-bandaging the wound and tending to the smaller cut on his head did he turn his attention to himself. There were the injuries to his chest- small punctures where the ala's grip had dug in; there was probably internal damage if the pain he felt was anything to go by, not to mention the metallic taste in the back of his throat. It probably wasn't too serious. Then there was his head- he must've hit it when the ala slammed him against the wall, because the pain was splitting, still drumming away in his skull and making his vision swirl. He collapsed in the chair, wincing as the movement jarred his body, but unsure if he would've been able to keep upright any longer. He felt increasingly lightheaded with the pain, and soon he slid his eyes shut, cut off from sound and sight save for the deep echoes of his heart, picking up speed, going faster and faster…

xxx

A stab of cold shot through him, and he came awake with a gasp. Alex jumped back, then cursed as the sudden movement no doubt pained him. The cold must've been his hand, the chill left over from the icepack that he held against his ribcage.

"Sorry, sorry." He waved his free hand about in a gestural apology, lowering himself down to sit on the edge of the bed. "I woke up a few minutes ago, found this in the fridge. Wasn't sure how long we'd been here, so…"

Sam nodded, rubbing at his forehead as he yawned. Miraculously, his headache was gone, but there was still the rest of his injuries to contend with.

"I must've passed out after I stitched you up." He said, massaging his neck. Even if he weren't so tall, the chair was an uncomfortable place to sleep. "We got here around noon, so its been a few hours." The clock read 6:23 pm. That had been the most sleep he'd gotten in one go for a while, and it had been in a _chair_.

"Ah." Alex quieted, shifting as he switched the hands gripping the ice pack.

"Thank you." He said suddenly, auburn eyes lifting to Sam's own. "For coming for me."

"No problem." Sam managed a grin, though it felt half-hearted, even to him.

"What she said…" Alex began again, gaze dropping, then rising to stare with an air of determination out the window, "About me going to her. I didn't- I mean…" He broke off with a sigh, discomfort obvious. He appeared to be leading up to something, something he rarely, if ever, divulged to anyone. Sam stayed silent, unsure whether speaking would help or hinder the process.

The gold-flecked eyes switched back to him, unreadable outside of the obvious conflict. "When we split up in the neighborhood, I knew she would come for me."

Sam frowned. "Why?"

Alex's answering smile was self-deprecating, a twist of his lips that gave him a broken look Sam recognized all too well.

"Because I'm special.


End file.
